To any casual moviegoer, it comes as no surprise that a starlet now growing quite long in the tooth like Melanie Griffith should show up in an embarrassment such as A Stranger Among Us. From 1988’s passable Working Girl to this year’s abominable Shining Through, Tippi Hedren’s problem child has…
When it opened in 1989 — the same week as Batman — I was delighted by Honey, I Shrunk the Kids and its Lilliputian adventure set in a suburban back yard teeming with giant blades of grass, ants, puddles, bumblebees, and scorpions. “An adventure yarn in the tradition of Fantastic…
Having just learned from a reader’s letter that one’s perception of art is fact and not opinion, a whole new world of commentary has opened up for me. In case you don’t remember the missive sent to me by one of Pia’s musicians, it stated: “That’s how good our performances…
When Sinclair Lewis received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1930, one bemused onlooker, George Bernard Shaw — a winner of the same award in 1925 — made the following observation: “I have defined the hundred percent American as ninety-nine percent an idiot.” No doubt Shaw’s scintillating wit would be…
Want to hear an AIDS joke? A one-liner about crack addicts? Okay, how about the riots in L.A.? That’s a knee-slapper for sure. Maybe you think I’ve finally crossed the boundaries of sane Homo sapiens taste — well, not yet. I don’t believe these subjects lend themselves to wry humor,…
Eddie Murphy’s metamorphosis from foulmouthed ghetto comic into suave leading man is now almost complete, but so far it’s been about as successful as Woody Allen’s bumbling reincarnation as a lox-and-bagel Cary Grant. Because at least when Murphy was talking dirty and raising feminist hackles, he brought some hyperkinetic energy…
Set in a hazy, non-specific, post-apocalyptic future, Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Marc Caro’s black-hearted satirical comedy from France, Delicatessen, makes no attempt to conceal its sources of inspiration, pictorial and thematic: A predominant one is Terry Gilliam’s Brazil (which, of course, drew from wide literary sources such as Orwell’s 1984 and…
In my Spanish-English dictionary, the following words are translated in sequence: machacar (or machucar): to pound, to crush machete: heavy knife macho: male animal, male part, manly Sometimes, in learning a language, one can glean meaning from other words with similar root sounds. The connection seems to hold true in…
One False Move is a knuckleheaded title for a diminutive detective thriller — particularly as, both in its plot and the filmmaking in general, there are about as many false moves as barbecued ribs at a wild hog jamboree. Directed by former actor Carl Franklin and written by another actor,…
When reviewing a mixed bag of theatrical offerings such as the Seventh International Hispanic Theatre Festival, a Spanish-speaking Anglo reviewer (such as yours truly) could easily fall into the trap of generalizations. Latin theater reflects these beliefs, portrays this, says that in certain typical ways, et cetera. But such flat…
A work of mesmerizing lyrical power and profoundly human dimension, Julie Dash’s Daughters of the Dust celebrates the bond of women, the richness of culture and tradition, and the mystery of nature with bracing, impressive authority. Unlike so many of our contemporary media products passed along the popular-culture conveyer belt,…
“An opera – a gothic, Teutonic, thickly textured hybrid of various theatrical and cinematic conventions. To call this film Wagnerian would be understating the case, because even the Ring has its light and shade…[it] recalls the elliptical and symbolic world of Strauss-Hoffmannsthal’s Die Frau ohne Schatten, with its somber metaphysical…
After viewing the current New Theatre production of George Bernard Shaw’s Bonaparte: Man of Destiny, I was instantly reminded of a recent dinner conversation with a colleague on this paper. He commented that regrettably, there remain few good Shavian actors. I agreed, but added that Shaw would prove a challenge…
As Goldie Hawn traipses through it early in Housesitter, the fictional New England town of Dobbs Mill (Concord and Cohasset, Massachusetts) is a patch of retro-colonialist Americana: star-spangled flags hang over modestly ornamented homes, the wood-panel architecture recalls the idealistic haze of Norman Rockwell’s illustrations for the Saturday Evening Post,…
Dear Pia, Here I sit, all breathless and giddy (as you were on-stage), almost as short and adorable, wondering how I can praise your immense theatrical gifts enough in one scant review. You bring to mind an interview, years ago, with a big-lipped British rock star who rejected my idea…
The Hollywood office of the CIA has pulled off its slickest trick in years. When last we saw him, singlehandedly combating the Evil Empire in The Hunt for Red October, the agency’s ace analyst, Jack Ryan, looked remarkably like the heartthrob actor Alec Baldwin. His new mission for the Langley-based…
Never having put much stock in the concept of acquired tastes, the films of Derek Jarman, for all their incidental beauties, continue to leave a bad impression on me: too much flash, too little insight is the short of it. Jarman belongs to a generation of British filmmakers who came…
“I don’t see how that time could turn into this time,” agonizes an ex-Royal Air Force officer, remembering the days when jobs seemed to rain from the heavens over his merry ol’ nation and nice girls dared not drink in pubs. Songs of romance and loverly dreams hypnotized comely couples…
Whoopi here, Whoopi there, Whoopi everywhere. Like a coral-bound moray eel furiously biting off more than it can chew, the ubiquitous Goldberg has been, in the main, an eyesore since she blazed on Broadway in her 1984 subcultural solo act. In one comedy spectacle after another – Jumpin’ Jack Flash,…
From stage left of the paint-splattered canvas set – designed to evoke faded brain cells – music begins. Themes from glaring examples of lowdown popular trash, such as snippets of the McDonald’s song about deserving a break today and the twice-incarnated Addams Family whistle, waft ominously through the air. Like…
Every moviegoing generation must contend with the fact that great directors don’t come in bunches, though, as P.T. Barnum observed long ago, suckers do. And it’s to these poor, born-every-minute souls that Slacker, a subcultural tribute to vagrancy by first-time filmmaker Richard Linklater, is unwittingly dedicated. The film is populated…
Don’t be misled by her sex: She’s big. She’s mean. She’s bald. In a world filled with scampering rodents calling themselves macho, she stands firmer and taller than a forest oak tree. In the solitude and vastness of outer space, she fears no evil. No challenge is too great. No…
